


Can't Leave a Mark

by AdamantSteve



Series: Minifics [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fake Dating, Get Together, M/M, Meet the Family, clint doesn't belong, phil's family is loaded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1354330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another short tumblr fic! Clint agrees to help Phil out by pretending that they're dating for a trip home for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Leave a Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on Tumblr around Christmas time... don't think I posted it here then.

I’m gonna go with Clint/Phil for this :)

Clint looks with wide eyes at the movie-perfect ‘reception area’ of Phil’s parents’ house. There’s a huge staircase in the middle, behind a hallway table that’s decorated with a great display of fresh red and white flowers. Either side of the staircase are a matching set of christmas trees, the first pair of about a dozen throughout the house, each as lavishly decorated as the last. 

He does not belong here.

He’s about to turn to Phil and make some excuse, but before he can, a shrill voice comes out of one of the rooms. “Phillip!” it says, followed by a woman with perfectly coiffed rich lady hair. She’s grinning and holding out her arms, which only serves to heighten the terror Clint feels. Mother of Coulson, the woman who created Phil. The only person Coulson seems to be afraid of, including Natasha!!

Clint watches Phil submit to two cheek-kisses and a hug before her Coulson-brand eyes focus on him. “And this is Clint?” 

"Hello, ma’am," Clint says, feeling and sounding about eight years old. 

She kisses both Clint’s cheeks. She smells like expensive perfume and cookies.

She’s so gonna send him back to the orphanage. 

-

Clint’s kind of freaked out about the double bed they’ve been assigned. In a house this huge he figured they’d have their own rooms for sure, but apparently, “Mom’s trying to be progressive.”

It’s not that Clint doesn’t want to share a room - and a bed - with Coulson, but… If Phil hadn’t seemed out of his league before, judging by this place he most definitely is now. 

"Sorry about mom," Phil says, grimacing. "She gets excited about guests."

"It’s cool," Clint lies. He’s frightened to touch anything for fear of leaving a mark. Phil sits on the bed and tosses his shoes into a corner like it’s nothing. 

-

There’s a whole story figured out - Phil’s parents think he works for the FBI and that Clint’s a contractor that he met on the job. It’s kind of almost true, which is how all the best cover stories are, but Clint’s not expecting the anecdotes Phil tells them over dinner. They’re all true enough moments of their working history for Clint to corroborate, but the fondness with which Phil recalls them is unexpectedly genuine. It makes Clint feel something squirmy and warm in his gut. 

He adds his own parts to the stories, about how incredible Phil is on a daily basis, how funny he is, how much of a good person he can be.

-

They’ve shared a bed before. Shared a single sleeping bag before, even, but there’s something kind of terrifying about Phil Coulson in snuggly pyjamas. “I can take the floor,” he says, and Clint shakes his head. He’s in his underwear and a tshirt like usual and for the first time maybe ever, he feels underdressed for bed. 

"S’a big bed, I think we can cope." 

They lay in the dark either side of the bed and Clint stares at the ceiling. It’s a really comfortable bed; if it wasn’t for the enigma laying beside him he’d be asleep already. 

"Clint?"

He looks over and finds Phil watching him. 

"What?"

"Thank you." 

"It’s ok," Clint replies, as if this whole thing’s not making him have all sorts of feelings and want to ask all sorts of questions. 

A warm hand is suddenly in his, and Clint’s throat kind of constricts. He wants so much, and he knows he can’t have it, not really. He knows he should pull his hand away, turn over and go to sleep, but he can’t. Not with the way Phil’s holding onto him like this.

It’s no great manoeuvre to close the space between them, especially since they both move at the same time and meet in the middle. Phil tastes like peppermint toothpaste. They pull back after too long and not long enough, and both of them know they’ve crossed a line but they don’t say anything, just register the look of ‘what now?’ on one another’s faces before they’re kissing again, and hands begin roaming and lips start moving elsewhere. A cheek, a jaw, a neck. 

They’re making much too much noise for propriety’s sake, but Phil whispers that his parents’ room is in the other wing of the house, which makes Clint laugh for a variety of reasons.

-

The following morning features aches and strange marks that Clint’s proud of on his own body and pleased to see on Phil’s, up to and including the livid hickeys on both their necks. 

Phil lends Clint a turtleneck sweater which is all kinds of restrictive and awful, but he’s not sure he’d be able to cope with Mrs Coulson WASPily ignoring great big lovebites on display. Breakfast is still awkward, with Clint sure everyone knows, but Phil seems to get it and he holds Clint’s hand again, which is rapidly becoming a calming default for them both.

-

Later they have some serious discussions of course, and it’ll forever be awkward explaining when they really got together, but it’s easy, is the thing. It’s really easy just to slip their hands together and squeeze, easy to tell the other that everything’s gonna be ok, easy to kiss things better. Easy and nice: two words Clint hadn’t thought would ever apply to his life. 


End file.
